


Burning for Us

by terracyte



Series: Loyalty Through Fire [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Massacre of the 41st, Zuko being a damn martyr, and consequently a great prince, concerned adults and fellow peers are concerned, heavy conversations by the fire, i mean its zuko, thats practically a given no matter how much we wish it wasn't, zuko lowkey has a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracyte/pseuds/terracyte
Summary: Chit Sang had a brother in the 41st Division.[Where a Fire Nation citizen and his prince share a one-sided conversation by the fire and the Gaang learns a bit more about Zuko.]
Relationships: Chit Sang & Zuko
Series: Loyalty Through Fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812955
Comments: 90
Kudos: 2825
Collections: Finished111, Quality Fics, avatar tingz





	Burning for Us

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restored Honor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797677) by [turtle_abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_abyss/pseuds/turtle_abyss). 



> this cool concept and angst-filled short was very heavily inspired by Restored Honor by turtle_abyss, so make sure to check them out first! It was such a great take on an underutilized character, and their story was top notch.
> 
> (almost low-key stole a line from them but it was really good and I love that fic ok)
> 
> this can also be read as an expanded scene that i reference in kintsukuroi (these golden veins), which is another fic in this series!

The 41st division. Father had said there had been no survivors left.

Zuko remembered catching the firehawk on his arm and growing rigid as he broke the red seal holding together yellowed scrolls. There had been so many during his first months at sea, all of them on faded parchment and in bundles. Death reports. 

The scrolls had remained inside a chest in his room on the _Wani_. If they hadn’t been blown up in the pirate attack, then they had melted away in the cold waters of the harbor. Despite knowing that he should have tried to keep them, to keep reminding himself that he hadn’t done enough, that he hadn’t tried hard enough, that he had failed them, Zuko found himself almost relieved that the reports were gone. 

Out of sight but not out of mind. Never. 

There had been so many, too many. The 41st Division had been made up of children, of boys that had been barely older than Zuko himself. The draft took them away from their homes and onto the camps for training before they had been shoved into active battle. They had been new recruits, new victims of a war that raged around them and consumed more of their homes than they could hope to protect. 

Zuko felt his heart ache, just as it had surged in anger in the war room when he had been thirteen. Those were his people, his to protect. 

And he’d failed. 

\------

After landing back in the Western Air Temple, with Sokka’s father, Suki, and another prisoner (Sit Sang?) in tow, Zuko felt like he wanted to slump to the floor in exhaustion. He had not rested on the ride back, and only allowed himself a few brief seconds of reprieve to check their course before returning to feeding the furnace. Sokka had been out like a light, almost rightfully so; he had been doing nothing but running around and making the prison break happen, and after all the excitement, he deserved a rest. Hakoda and Suki had kept near Sokka, the two of them visibly relieved and happy to see a person so dear to them safe and well.

Katara had seemed to show the same amount of enthusiasm when the two siblings shared a hug with their father, and Zuko couldn’t help himself but smile at the sight too. 

Dinner around the campfire that night was palpably more upbeat and warm, the Water Tribe siblings laughing and sharing stories with their father. Zuko was preparing a pot of oolong, the only leaves he had packed with him. He heated the chipped clay pot with well-practiced hands and poured out the tea into the set of cups Toph had earthbended. 

She had made three more that night (for the new arrivals, she’d said).

Zuko went around and passed out the tea, but noticed when the fire nation prisoner’s gaze (Chit Sang, he was sure now) seemed to linger. Of course, that was to be expected. He was the man’s prince, banished and deemed traitor now, but the prince nonetheless. What he did not expect, however, was for that gaze to be almost warm and reverent. No disgust or scorn when he gazed at the large scar marring Zuko’s face. 

Zuko finished serving the tea and sat back down, a couple of paces away from the rest of the group, nursing his own cup. The quiet conversation continued, and the flames popped every now and then. 

The prince looked up when he heard someone clear their throat, and had to stop himself from startling when he saw Chit Sang’s gaze directed towards him. 

The man opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped and reconsidered his words. Zuko forced himself to not look down to his tea, to get away from the soulful gaze that wouldn’t stop watching him, why was it watching him?

Finally, the man seemed to settle, and he turned his gaze towards the crackling fire. 

“My brother was part of the 41st.”

Zuko froze. That...had not been what he thought Chit Sang might have said. His throat suddenly felt terribly dry, and he took a quick sip of his oolong. As he cradled the well-worn cup in his hands, he forced them to stop shaking and looked at Chit Sang. Really looked at him. The faded red prisoner garb they both still wore, and the tired, so tired, look that hung on his face. 

That was one of his people. Another he was supposed to protect. 

Zuko swallowed, and his voice was low.

“...I’m sorry.”

Chit Sang shook his head then. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for, Fire Prince Zuko. Never you. I know what you did for them; what you did for Takai.”

And suddenly it was too much, and Zuko felt himself start to crumble because he knew that name, he knew it because he had spent so much time remembering all the boys he had failed but Agni why couldn’t he remember more than his name, why couldn’t he recall the young face that had been on the reports, one among thousands that had been stowed away on a ship that had been home to crew that he had failed too-

Though the haze of his thoughts, Zuko could make out the stares of the others around the fire, all of them staring at him, questioning. He gripped his cup tighter and forced himself to breathe. He couldn’t afford to break down here, not here and not now. 

Chit Sang continued, and Zuko wanted to scream, wanted to thank the man for giving him more time to breathe. 

“That’s what I was arrested for, you know. Why I was at Boiling Rock. I knew too much about the conspiracy about the royal family, and how the Firelord had approved a plan to send a division of new recruits to the frontlines as a diversion.” 

“A diversion?” Katara’s small voice, if Zuko could get himself to focus, seemed almost horrified. 

“So many died,” Chit Sang continued. “And those that didn’t were sent back out until they did.”

Zuko felt his breath hitch but that was stupid because he already knew that. He knew that they had all died, knew that they had been sent out again and again as if the first battle (a slaughter, he corrected in his mind) hadn’t been enough. 

“Takai, my little brother, he was scared. He survived and had to be sent out again. But after he heard what you did, he and the division were different.” Chit Sang’s voice was low and soulful, and his gaze seemed to be elsewhere. 

“They had hope, you know? Someone had stood up for them, someone in the royal family. I know by Agni, Takai and the rest of those boys didn't deserve their deaths, but you gave them hope, my Prince.”

“...I didn’t do enough,” Zuko’s voice was a raspy whisper. “Hope isn’t enough.”

Chit Sang looked up then and gave a small smile, but his eyes were dull and worn. 

“It was enough for them.”

Zuko stood up, because it was too much. No breathing exercise would fix this. So he stood up, ducked his head and bowed, his hands in the flame, to Chit Sang, before he promptly excused himself and escaped to the further reaches of the temple. 

When he was gone, the people around the fire looked over at Chit Sang as if to ask for answers. He shook his head. 

“That story isn’t for me to tell,” Chit Sang said. “But I know that Prince Zuko is the only member of the royal family with a shred of honor.”

“But what did he do?” Aang asked, confused. 

The fire popped, and black ashes drifted into the air. 

Chit Sang’s eyes narrowed, and his expression became pained.

“He burned for them,” he whispered. “ _He burned for us._ ”

He cast a look towards where the prince had disappeared into the shadows, trying to hide but Chit Sang could see him, could see the way he burned, and stood tall and proud. He saw and he knew that the rest of their nation would come to see too.

Zuko was still burning.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me over on tumblr [@terracyte](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/terracyte) if you'd like :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [klainelynch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainelynch/pseuds/klainelynch) Log in to view. 




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